"Water!" he gasped. ‘Your mystery lady, I mean. The joy that filled her veins with throbbing fire urged her to rise and go swinging and whirling and dipping. " "Except me, dear," insinuated Edgeworth Bess. You can give up thinking and leave all the brain work to her. Then as she drew nearer paint showed upon her face, and a harsh purpose behind the quiet expression of her open countenance, and a sort of unreality in her splendor betrayed itself for which Ann Veronica could not recall the right word—a word, half understood, that lurked and hid in her mind, the word “meretricious.
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